The Boss Assignment (Rogue Protectors Book 3) by Victoria Paige (summer beach reads .TXT) 📕

the FBI, actually.” He turned to Garrison. “Gabby wanted to come. She’s at the house right now, waiting for my signal to come over.” He looked steadily at Antonio. “We’re neighbors.”

“Fucking hell, Declan,” Garrison said. “Do I have to worry about you spilling agency secrets to your wife?”

The clanging of gates drew their attention.

“I come bearing breakfast,” Bristow called from the top of the gate. “Roarke. Don’t be an asshole blocking the gate, yeah?”

“Come here, dipshit,” Declan strode up to the SEAL. “Missed your ugly mug. Glad you guys made it out of Mexico.”

“Out of Mexico and straight into Rio.”

“I stopped by Levi’s house the other day. Dude’s pretty banged up,” Declan said.

“Is he the guy who was driving the truck when the RPG hit?” Charly asked. “The one John dragged unconscious from the vehicle.”

“Yes,” Declan said. “But if you ever meet Levi or his girls, they just think daddy had a bad fall.”

“Does Kelly know the whole story?” Bristow asked Declan before turning his attention to Charly. “That’s Levi’s wife … well estranged … still.” He looked back at Declan. “Right?

“Yup, let’s just say Kelly is worried and also annoyed at Levi, but he’s soaking up the attention.” Declan chuckled. “She definitely suspects Levi is playing down how he got his injuries. They have things to work through that’s for sure.”

Someone’s phone sounded.

“You’re ringing,” Garrison told Declan. “And if that’s your wife, the answer is no. Do not tell her Antonio Andrade is here.”

“It’s really hard to hide from her,” Declan said and walked off to a corner to take the call.

“Serves you right for marrying a detective,” the spook called after him as the rest of them entered the house.

Antonio smirked. “He could have sent it to voicemail.”

Bristow lowered the paper bags on the dining table. “Roarke’s not an idiot. Detective Hottie is tenacious. She’d only come knocking on our door and I don’t think we’re ready for that to happen.”

“Huh,” Charly said, glancing in Antonio’s direction. “I guess I know, when I get your voicemail it’s not always because you’re busy.”

Antonio’s mouth thinned. He was still navigating this change in dynamics between them and might need a GPS to figure it out.

Bristow grinned slyly.

Fucker. It appeared he was getting jabs from every corner, including the woman who was supposed to be on his side.

“But you see, I’m a busy man,” he said and couldn’t hide the sarcasm in his voice. “I need to prioritize.”

Charly’s face blanked. “Noted.” Then she turned her back on him and moved closer to Bristow who was at the opposite end of the table. In profile, he could see her smiling at the SEAL, and she clapped her hands once in glee as the other man handed her a Styrofoam container.

Antonio gritted his teeth. His pride warring with this emotion that may be called jealousy. An emotion foreign to him. He was not regretting coming along for this trip, knowing he would be miserable to be separated from Charly. This pit of unsettledness in his gut was because Antonio didn’t have a game plan. He almost never did anything impulsively. Even rescuing Walker, Ariana, and Charly from the Mexican Army had been calculated. He never left anything to chance. Unlike now. He could only stare mutely, his body frozen as Charly ignored him.

“This is yours.” Garrison walked over to him with a container labeled steak and eggs. “You might need a lesson or two from Roarke.”

“I don’t need help with women,” he said.

A skeptical brow rose. “Well, try not to dig your grave deeper. We don’t want to upset our virologist.”

“Charly,” Antonio called and she turned toward him. “Are you not sitting with me?”

“You’re on my shit list right now,” she retorted. “And I hope you like the steak and eggs I ordered. You don’t have a problem with a woman ordering your food for you, right?”

Merda. She’s really pissed.

“Come on, minha querida.” He tried a different tact. “Surely you know you’re my priority. See what I left behind in Brazil for you.”

She ventured back to him, food in hand, and plopped into a chair beside him. “I’m happy you chose to be here. Don’t get me wrong, but I hope you don’t ruin your grand gestures with your dickishness.”

Charly stabbed at that disgusting blob of gravy she called breakfast and forked it into her mouth. Doctors really had the worst diets. He also realized that he had to be on his toes with this one. It was strange that, despite his frustration, he was looking forward to finding out what made Charlotte Bennett tick.

He glanced briefly at Bristow and Garrison. The men pretended not to be paying attention, but their mouths were curled in silent laughter.

Damn them. He looked forward to it but wasn’t expecting an audience cataloguing every mistake he made.

Antonio cleared his throat. The apology stuck in his throat. But if he apologized for every time he said something wrong that had nothing to do with her, this was going to be tedious. So, he bit down hard on his tongue—figuratively. He flipped the lid on his Styrofoam container and winced at the cardboard-looking steak and the dry-looking scrambled eggs. He would never understand the American diet. It wasn’t because he was snobbish. A street vendor in Rio could make a better steak and eggs than this one. Brazilians took their meat seriously. Oscar—a gaucho, through and through—would cringe at this atrocity.

But he was hungry and he never wasted food, no matter how difficult it was to swallow.

“Gabby wants to come over.” Declan walked to their table and inspected the paper bags of breakfast items. He lifted a smaller Styrofoam.

“Hey, you’re not part of the order.” Bristow swallowed the bite in his mouth before protesting. “Didn’t Gabby feed you?”

“I had a nine-mile run this morning and she’s on one of her protein shake kicks again. Damned Kelso. I want real food, man.”

“Who’s Kelso?” Antonio asked mildly. Best to know everyone around his orbit.

“Gabby’s partner.” Bristow took another bite into his